


Nothing Left Worth Winning

by netphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Phan Angst, Phanfiction, Swearing, competitive banter on crack, idek i shat this out a month or two ago, phil has a panic attack, they get into a fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6896533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netphan/pseuds/netphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan brings up something he shouldn’t have during a moment of competitive banter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Left Worth Winning

**Author's Note:**

> It me, back after 8 months of inactivity.
> 
> Special s/o to Kenzie (Schnitten-mitten on tumblr) for putting up with my dramatics around this story, I'm sorry and ily.
> 
> Title taken from Don't Wanna Fight by Alabama Shakes

The final lap was just about to finish. Dan Howell and Phil Lester were neck and neck for first place both competing for the title of Mario Kart Champion. Dan had managed to maintain his lead in first pretty steadily over the course of the race, with the exception of the one god damn blue shell Phil had tossed his way. But now as they neared the black and white checkered line, Phil had managed to grab a couple mushrooms and was only a few centimeters, if that, behind Dan.

“God fucking dammit Phil, use your last mushroom already!” Dan urged him, trying to set the odds in his favour. Phil however, had a tactic. He’d managed to score a box of three mushrooms, two of which he’d already used to catch up to Dan.

The finish line came on screen for both men, and the game music intensified. They both feverishly got as far ahead as they could. Dan’s elbows were on his knees, his face scrunched in concentration. Then, at the very last moment of road, the last of Phil’s three mushrooms was used as a speed boost, sending Phil over the checkered rectangle in first place.  
A smile stretched across Phil’s face. He very rarely ever beat Dan, but when he did, the phenomenon went on for days. Dan’s mouth repeatedly opened and closed, like that of a fish.

“Motherfu... Damn it Phil!

The Wii-mote was flung to the ceiling as Phil pumped his hands up and down in celebration of his victory. “Yes! I finally beat the Mario Kart Master.” He brought his knee to a ninety-degree angle and placed his foot on the ottoman in a faux nobility pose. “I am the now the almighty champion! Peasant,” He boomed, and motioned toward Dan, “Bring me my crown.”  
Dan huffed, and slouched back into the sofa crease. 

“Shut up, Phil.” Phil thought he was joking, so he laughed it off and fell onto the couch onto his frustrated, and red-faced boyfriend, he just needed some cuddles.

“Whatever Dan, I beat you fair and square. I guess you’ll just have to live with me being the new ruler.” Dan turned his head away from Phil, and crossed his right leg over top of his left one. His body was closed off, and he rejected cuddles.

A chuckle was shared on Dan’s part, showing that he wasn’t actually upset. “You beat me once Phil, don’t get comfortable on your high-horse.”

“Well, I’ll have you know, I intend on being champion every time we play. Your time to shine is long gone Howell. It’s Philly’s turn now!”

“As if! Look back at my track-record, I win 95% of the time. I’ll probably win even more in the future too, seeing as you’re absolute shit at this game.” Dan raised his voice, getting increasingly more angry and frustrated with every statement. “Maybe you’re just too arrogant to see that you’re really not all that at Mario Kart, especially against me.”

Fed up, Phil needed to take a stand for himself, so he yelled back, regardless of the fact that anxiety was overflowing his brain. “Arrogant? Oh that’s rich coming from you. You let winning go to your head! I beat you at Mario Kart loads, and frankly a lot of other games too! You always dishonour it, by saying it was cheating or some crap like that. You always do this! Why don’t you stop being a prick, and let me win for once, my god.” The loudness and intensity of their voices could’ve possibly triggered a neighbour to call 999, but they wouldn't have even noticed.

“Do you actually think, you are in anyway superior to me? Seriously Phil, you’re nearly thirty, but you’re still wasting your days trying to beat obviously more talented players at MarioKart. And, You’ve been doing Youtube for how long? I have way more subscribers than you do. I doubt you are superior than me Phil Lester, and I’m sure the extra two million people agree.”  
Suddenly the room previously filled with screams, became dead quiet. Dan’s hands were balled up into tight little fists of anger, still in battle mode. Phil however was done. Subscriber count, and the age gap were two incredibly sensitive insecurities for him, fighting now would only mean more hurt feelings, more anxiety. 

“Sod off.” He got up quickly ducking his head down. Careful not making eye contact with the still fuming Dan. He fled to his bedroom with the slam of a door, leaving Dan dumbfounded, cross, but processing exactly what he’d just done.

Once the guilt set into its considerably large hole in Dan’s abdomen, he chased after him. “Fuck.” He stomped to the door, knocking in desperation. “Shit, Phil I didn’t mean that. It just came out. Phil, please! I’m so so so sorry.” 

“It doesn’t matter Dan, I don’t care.” It did matter, and hell did he care.

Sobs and sniffles were audible through the door, and Dan knew that he fucked up royally. “Phil, it does matter. I’m so so sorry okay? I honest to god didn’t mean it. I swear that it wasn’t intentional. Oh god Phil please! I’m so so-”

The door creaked open slowly to reveal a puffy eyed, but tearless Phil. “I’m sorry too, I guess. But I’m fine, really. It’s fine. ” His voice was laced with something along the lines of discomfort; annoyance; anxiety. But Dan didn’t question. He was momentarily forgiven, and the stomach churning guilt he’d felt previously subsided. He pulled Phil into a tight embrace.  
“Are you sure? I still feel bad about saying it. You do know I didn’t mean it right?”

Phil hummed in response, squirming out of the awkward hug. He obviously was hurt. Dan had belittled him; didn’t like seeing him win. Phil had, in a sense been defeated. He wanted to express how he actually felt to his partner. He wanted to show that he actually cared about everything Dan had said, but in the grand scheme of things, the whole situation seemed petty, and causing a scene over it would be worthless. He said he didn’t mean it, and it was out of frustration. Phil had doubts. 

The day went on, as it always did. Dan tried to convince Phil to play another round of Mario Kart. Phil declined. Witty, sarcastic, and quite blatant retorts were shot like flying monkey shit, and Dan seemed to have forgotten the events of earlier. Phil hadn’t. Phil would’ve rather gone and hid under his covers, probably reblog a bunch of deep things onto his tumblr as a way of expression. Instead however, he’d acted fine, insisted he was fine. He pushed away his own feelings because they had been arguing over petty things so much recently, and it just wasn’t worth it.

He’d managed to remain a pretty good façade, sure had Dan fooled {or Dan really didn’t care} but he certainly had remembered, and he certainly wasn’t over it. Clouds of words, similar to those of which Dan had said earlier, had glossed Phil’s eyes over, hazed his vision; jaded his mood. It was a dissociative process, filled with self-loathing. A cave in which he sat alone, words echoing. Though the words were minor, the meanings were grand, and the messenger, a giant.  
He was blinking back tears as he was sitting on the couch. The analog clock on Phil’s mac showed it neared the time they would be going to bed, 12:43. He did not want to sleep in the same bed as Dan tonight, but if he was going to keep acting as fine as he was, it seemed inevitable. In all reality, he really wanted to go and curl up with a hoodie and cry. He was already almost crying.

Dan took notice of the distressed state. “Phil, are you okay?”

“’M fine. Bit of a headache though, might sleep in my own bed tonight. Ya’know, so you don’t get sick.”

Dan frowned, “Is this about earlier? Look, I didn’t mea-”

Phil shook his head, and stood up. “I’m fine. Now I’m going to take some Advil and I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“I love you Phil.” Dan stood up too, coming at eye level with Phil. “And I mean that.”

It was meek; routine. Did Dan mean that? Did he actually love Phil? Did he mean what he said earlier too? Dan had said his age doesn’t matter, and they never talked about subscriber count, that was a known rule. Did Dan mean it? Phil meant everything he said to Dan, with the exception of one or two hurtful things in the past. Maybe that’s what this is like? Phil could never really tell if Dan had intended for something to hurt or for it to be a sarcastic comment. Regardless, Phil still loved him. “I love you too Dan.” He was just frustrated.  
Phil did take some Advil. Not because he had a headache, but because his head ached. Throughout the night, questions of ‘What If?’ lurked around Phil’s head, and tears left trails like rivers across his skin. Dan was right whether he meant it or not. Phil was almost thirty, still sitting at far less subs than most of his YouTube friends. He wasn’t superior, he wasn’t amazing. Ironic how his brand didn’t suit him at all. Perhaps, AveragePhil or LessthanamazingPhil would fit better. Even as he was thinking these thoughts, his weakness made him feel more pathetic than he already was. All he really was, was a pathetic, middle-aged man, on the verge of tears because his partner is more successful than him.  
He’d hoped that the medication would knock him out eventually (as painkillers usually did) but the alarm clock on his nightstand shone 3:47am, and Phil still laid staring at his ceiling. This time however, he was actually crying, because oh god, Dan was right. Phil was so inferior to Dan, relative to age, and time spent doing their job. Phil worked so damn hard writing scripts for his videos, and editing the crap out of them for the viewing enjoyment of all 3,000,000 people. But Dan, Dan filmed and edited videos half-heartedly the day they went live, and still had 60% more followers than him! Dan had an entire part of the fandom devoted to him (not that they were the best source for judgement,) and Phil only had the small cultivated population even in which, Dan was favoured more.

5:00am rolled around. Phil stopped crying a half hour ago, instead now kept a hard face, ready to face the last person he wanted to see. Isolation would be a key factor in the day, which he could easily play off as him just being sick, but so would self-loathing and that wasn’t so easy to hide.

There was a slight knock on the door around 8:00am, waking Phil up from the sleep that had momentarily overtaken him. “Phil? I’m ordering Tesco’s. Do you want some Ribena and that ramen soup you love to eat when you have a cold?”

Phil burrowed his face in his pillow and brought his comforter up to cover his face, tears threatening to spill again. There was another quality present in Dan that Phil just didn’t quite get. Dan cared so much about Phil. Not to say Phil didn’t care about Dan, but Dan was so much more expressive about it. He knew what Phil wanted when he was sick, he knows all of Phil’s favourite TV shows, he even knows Phil’s blood type should his clumsiness ever kill him. Phil didn’t know half the things about Dan that Dan knew about Phil.

“Go away.”

Feet shuffled along the carpet, and a warm hand was placed on Phil’s shoulder. “Babe, are you okay?”

“M’fine.” Phil faked a cough. “I’m just sick.”

“Now that’s bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.”

The bed dipped down beside Phil, signifying that Dan was getting comfy. “What’s really bugging you?”  
All Phil wanted was for him to leave. “Nothing. Go away.”

“Phil.”

“I said,” Phil’s voice was raised, and his breathing was becoming shallow and quick, “Go. Away.”

Dan reached for the covers Phil barricaded himself under, but he only hugged them tighter. “Phil, you’re scaring me. Can you please come out from under the covers?”

The bed was shaking with Phil’s intense breathing. It was obvious to Dan that a panic attack could arise, as they were not uncommon. But what the hell was it about?  
“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you!” Between breaths, Phil was screaming at Dan, “So you can see all my imperfections, so you can tear me down like everybody else! We… I get it okay? I’m not amazing, I’m not even mediocre! I suck at my job, I can’t fucking play Mario Kart, and I’m old. Oh god I’m so old. I’m not coming out from under these covers, not so you can pick me to pieces again.”

Dan saw Phil’s grip on the covers loosen, probably to wipe away a tear or a bogie. He quickly grabbed the corner and ripped it back to reveal an extremely red-faced, and somewhat dissociative Phil.

“Fuck you!” Phil boomed, Dan got off the bed, and put his hands in front of his chest as if to surrender. 

“Phil, I-”

“Save it, this is exactly what you want. You said it yourself right? Seriously Phil, you are not superior to me. You don’t think I don’t know that? You don’t think that every god damned day of my life I think about how shit of a human being I am? Especially compared to you! You’re so beautiful, and kind, and popular, and… and perfect!” His voice cracked and his back fell. The fit of panic and rage was over, now only replaced by sorrow and insecurity. “You’re so, perfect and I’m just…” Phil burrowed his face into his hands, and just lost it. He was shaking with violent sobs, his head occasionally twitching to the right (a nervous tick usually signifying the beginnings or the ends of a panic attack.) “I’m just so... bad.”

Dan scooched closer to his boyfriend, and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Shhh, Lion.” He pet the back of Phil’s head, as he continued to sob into Dan’s shoulder. “Is this about what happened yesterday?” 

Phil nodded, and guilt punched Dan straight in the dick. “But it’s n-not just that. It’s everyth-thing.” 

A new fit of sobs appeared, causing Phil to clutch onto dan like his life depended on it. “I’m so so so so so sorry phil. None of what I said yesterday was meaningful, I was just extremely frustrated and I lashed out. You are in no way inferior to me, or anybody else okay?” No response, only sobs. “Phil, look at me. You, are an amazing human being okay?” Phil stared at his hands, avoiding all teary-eyed contact with Dan. “Phil. You are admired by so many people, especially me. And you certainly do not suck at your job, you have three million people watching what you do. That’s more than the population of Manchester!” He shook Phil, because eye contact was still not being made, and it was starting to become worrisome. “Don’t even get me started on the age thing. You’re still only four years older than me Phil, same difference from when we first met. Nothing has changed, my love for you has not changed. Because I, love and adore you so much Philip Michael Lester. So much.”  
They sat on Phil’s bed, hugging for a while. Nobody said anything after Dan’s long speech, but nobody had too. Dan knew that Phil understood, he knew that this could’ve been heavily impacted something else. But he also knew that Phil was okay. And at the end of the day, Phil’s happiness was the most important thing.

**Author's Note:**

> comments & kudos are much appreciated


End file.
